2024 - Iraq

Ayaz paces around the dimly lit laboratory, the weight of the world pressing down on him. His golden blond hair catches the overhead lights, glinting like spun gold, but his eyes—usually a warm gold—are clouded with frustration and uncertainty. Each step feels heavier than the last, and he fights the urge to scream, to unleash the storm of emotions raging within. For once, he holds it together, wrestling with the familiar sensations of anger and sadness. It’s new, this control, but it feels like a cage.

“Why did Sprite go with Ikaris?” Makkari signs, her brows furrowed in confusion. The question hangs in the air, heavy and unresolved.

“Because she loves him,” Kingo replies, and the words slice through the tension, drawing startled glances from everyone in the room. “Oh, you guys didn’t pick up on that?” His tone carries a mix of disbelief and sorrow.

Hestia looks down, her red hair framing her face like a curtain hiding her pain. “That explains why she always hated me,” she murmurs, her voice a fragile whisper. “I never imagined myself to be an obstacle for someone’s love.”

“You didn’t know, Hestia,” Sersi comforts her, wrapping her arms around the sobbing woman, lending her strength.

Kingo sighs, the weight of betrayal etched across his face. “He really fooled us, didn’t he?” He glances at the exit, already planning his departure. “Karun, let’s go.”

“Wait, where the hell are you going?” Phastos asks, incredulity filling his voice.

“I can’t help you guys. I still think Ikaris is right,” Kingo confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow.

Ayaz scoffs, the frustration boiling over. “So, that’s it, huh? Just gonna follow him?”

“I love the people of this planet. But if you stop this emergence, you’re preventing so many other worlds like this one from being created. I still have faith in Arishem. But I refuse to hurt any of you for my beliefs,” Kingo states, a resolve settling in his posture as he turns to leave.

Makkari grips his shoulder, urgency in her eyes. “We need you,” she signs, her hands moving with firm, deliberate motion to match the gravity in her gaze.

“Even with my help, we’re no match. It’s Ikaris.” Kingo shakes his head, his voice softening. “But… I hope to see you on the next planet.”

“Thank you for all you’ve done for humanity. It’s been a great honor. I will miss you all,” Karun adds, his voice thick with emotion, tears pooling in his eyes.

Druig nods at him, a weak smile crossing his lips, a bittersweet farewell. Kingo walks away, Karun trailing behind, leaving a chilling silence in their wake.

“I can’t do this, guys,” Hestia finally says, wiping her tears. “I can’t fight him. I’m sorry.”

Ayaz stares blankly at the empty hallway where she vanished, torn between his platonic feelings for her and his anger toward Ikaris. He sighs, running a hand through his wild golden locks, and pushes forward to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Are you leaving too?” Phastos asks, noticing Ayaz’s retreat.

“I’m not leaving. I’m going to prepare myself. I want revenge,” Ayaz replies, his voice steady yet cold. With a flick of his wrist, he teleports into a secluded chamber, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. The chamber is suffused with memories—the same place he and Druig shared their first intimate moments.

Seated on the floor, he leans against the cool wall, eyes closed, the silence only broken by the distant hum of machinery. But the calm shatters when Druig slides in beside him, the warmth of his presence wrapping around Ayaz like a soft blanket.

“If you’re here to lecture me about how revenge won’t bring peace for me, feel free to leave,” Ayaz snaps, but the edge in his voice fades when he sees the look in Druig’s eyes.

“I did this to you,” Druig says softly, placing his hand over Ayaz's, squeezing it gently. “And now I’m responsible for the consequences.”

“It made me stronger,” Ayaz admits, the honesty hanging between them like a fragile thread. Losing control had awakened something darker within him, a shadow that whispered of power and vengeance. Yet, he won’t lay the blame solely on Druig. He’s grown too much for that.

“Do you remember the first time you confessed your feelings for me?” Druig asks, his voice a cautious whisper. The unexpected question pulls a chuckle from Ayaz, his cheeks flushing with warmth.

“I was a mess,” Ayaz admits, laughter bubbling up as he recalls the moment. He puts his head in his hands, shaking it, unable to hide his grin.

“A beautiful mess,” Druig corrects, a tender smile spreading across his face, revealing the dimples Ayaz has come to adore. “I also remember how we used to spend our alone time.”

Memories flood Ayaz’s mind, each one more intoxicating than the last. The stolen moments, the laughter, the way their bodies moved together as if choreographed by the universe—it was magic, pure and unfiltered. He longs for those days again, where love overshadowed conflict.

“Good days,” Ayaz says, his laughter ringing out, a rare sound that feels cathartic, cleansing the heaviness in his heart.

“You have an adorable laugh,” Druig says, his eyes sparkling with mischief, but Ayaz rolls his eyes, the warmth in his chest undeniable.

“You need to be medicated,” he teases, feeling lighter despite the chaos outside.

Druig laughs, the sound rich and inviting. “I wouldn’t argue there.”

“Freaky git,” Ayaz mumbles under his breath, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curling into a smile as he leans his head against Druig’s shoulder. A warm sense of comfort envelops him, and he feels a rush of gratitude. “I want you to know that I forgive you, and I’m grateful for the life I’ve lived with you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Druig replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He casts his gaze downward, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. When he meets Ayaz’s eyes again, they reflect a rare vulnerability, a side of him rarely seen beneath the layers of charm and bravado. It captivates Ayaz, making his heart swell with affection. “But I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”

“Bloody romantic, aren’t we now?” Ayaz teases, a smirk dancing on his lips, but the sincerity behind his words is undeniable.

“Call me romantic one more time, and I’ll take you right here, right now,” Druig replies, a playful glint sparking in his eyes.

Ayaz's eyes widen in surprise, disbelief washing over him. “What?” he breathes, caught off guard.

Druig bursts into laughter, the sound brighter and more infectious than Ayaz has ever heard. “I’m joking! You should see your face!” His laughter fills the chamber, a sweet melody that lightens the tension.

“God, I hate you,” Ayaz groans comically, feigning annoyance, though his own laughter bubbles up, warming the space between them.

“No, you don’t,” Druig sings back, his tone teasing but laced with affection. Yet, in an instant, his expression shifts, seriousness returning as his eyes lock onto Ayaz’s. “You don’t hate me, right?”

“I don’t,” Ayaz replies softly, biting his lip as he glances up at Druig, a small smile breaking through. He curls into Druig’s side, seeking solace and connection in the warmth of their shared moment.

“Good.” Druig leans in, capturing Ayaz's lips with his own. The kiss is soft yet insistent, igniting a fire within Ayaz, sending heat spiraling through his stomach. As they move from sitting to kneeling, their bodies meld, a perfect fit.

“They’re making out!” Phastos’s voice echoes from the hallway, footsteps fading in the distance, tearing them from their intimate moment.

Ayaz groans, rolling his eyes at the interruption, but he can’t help the fondness bubbling inside him. He pecks Druig's lips, urgency prickling at the edges of their shared bliss. “We should probably go.”

Druig nods, a smile still lingering on his face, and together, they link their hands, stepping back into the chaos of the laboratory, united against the storm looming on the horizon.